Thursday, October 13, 2005

SportsMatters Classic: 1st Annual Madden Weekend

This post was originally published on an old blog of mine. It's true home, along with the 2nd Annual Madden Weekend post, is here. I will post the Madden II story at a later date.

9:30 p.m. Friday

Late beginnings at Villa de la Kimmis, because Kimmis' G-ma was celebrating her 9000 birthday or something. He's just lucky he didn't have to go to Olive Garden again. We have stocked up on more booze and chips that heavenly possible, and are now ready to go. Abboud is wound up like a Mormon in a whorehouse: nervous, excited, and ready to explode. I plan on hammering the hell out of both of them.

Format is as follows: We all drafted our own team on Wednesday. Each of us will play every game with our own team, and split up the responsibilities of playing our teams opponent. For example, if my team (Eagles) are playing the Falcons, who belong to nobody, either Abboud or Kimmis will play as that team, in the hope of destroying my hopes and playoff aspirations.

1:32 a.m. Saturday

Abboud has just gone down 24-0 to Kimmis in week three of our season. It is not even half-time. He has threatened to kill me about six times since 1o p.m., including the most recent about four minutes ago. Kimmis has yet to giggle, but I am sure it is coming.

On the season so far:Abboud: 1-1 (and losing game 3)Kimmis: 2-0Grabia: 2-0

1:44 a.m. Friday

I know, so soon. But too good to pass up.

Abboud (screaming at the top of his lungs): JOHNNIE MORTON WOULD NEVER CATCH THAT!!!

4:05 a.m. Saturday

Abboud: 1-2Kimmis: 3-0Grabia: 3-0

Had pizza. So good. Drunk. Sleep now.

11:24 a.m Saturday

Had a reasonable sleep on Kimmis' futon. Abboud crashed on the other. At about 10:00 a.m., I rolled over and noticed he was up and reading ESPN magazine. The last thing I remember before slipping back into a coma was him muttering "Let me hammer you." I will leave it up to you to guess what he was talking about.

Abboud is off to a funeral, so Kimmis and I are going to draft another franchise, with just him and I playing in it. This would happen eventually anyways, as Kimmis and I are probably the only ones who will maintain this zealous passion for any length of time. Abboud will retreat to his franchise at home, which is fine, but the head to head is where it is at.

Last night I dreamt of Randy Moss. And he looked glorious. Through three games, I have already gained 957 yards passing with him. Sick. Kimmis and Abboud should be having nightmares. My quarterback is some kid named Losman, who is having a retarded season. I have him signed for five years, but Kimmis is convinced he will hold out for more. I might too if i had a 130.0 passing rating through three games. Good thing I have about 40 milion in salary cap.

So far, all the games have been shootouts. I don't know what we are doing wrong, or right, but the defences can't get any frontline pressure and the QB's are therefore just bombing away. Blitzing has failed miserably.

11:50 a.m Saturday

Kimmis and just heard the weirdest thing while watching Olympic women's beach volleyball (Sam Roberts was correct: where have all the good boobies gone?). The followling lines were uttered verbatim by a CBC announcer: "The Swiss peel back, GREAT chicken-wing defence there!" What the hell does that mean? As a sports afficianado, I was pretty sure I had heard them all. Kimmis thinks it is a term created to appeal to males sports bar viewers, so that they watch an otherwise COMPLETLY BORING hobby (no boobs=no dice). His new phrase: "Ken, that set was TOTALLY nacho! Simply nacho. I am left speechless."

12:01 p.m. Saturday

Kimmis and I have started our draft. Kevin wants to take Terrell Owens with his 1st pick, but is worried that the game is so realistic T.O. will start bitching about not getting enough throws. I have noticed that between Abboud, Kimmis and I, a little competition has started. It is called the "lowest pay roll game." Each of us seems obsessed with picking up the cheapest, youngest guy possible. I don't know why, because it isn't like we will play ten seasons of this (or even more than one) but each of us is out to one-up the next guy. Note: I have stolen Ricky Ray from Kevin and Abboud in both my drafts. I also stole Tatum Bell from Abboud, which almost caused him to leap at me.

3:35 p.m. Saturday

Kimmis and I have each played a game with our new teams. We each won. I am still unable to prevent a pass, but the good news is Kevin can't stop me with anybody other than his own team. I just made another trade in an attempt to get more solid CB's. I now have four in the 85+ range, which should help my dime D tremendously. Good news is I finally found my running game, rushing for 173 yards with Amos Zereoue.

The realism of this game is sick. Not only do the players leap, turn, hit, and run like the real thing, but the cheerleaders do too. When they lean over, gravity actually forces the breasts down. Mindblowing, really.

Abboud has just called and is coming back. Kevin went to get some breakfast sandwiches from French Meadow (shout outs to to the Meadow!) and I have cleaned the place up a bit. I should shower, but I am so hot I am afraid a shower may melt me.

8:11 p.m. Saturday

We have just spent the last four hours playing two games. Terrible. The problem is we all wanted to make a bunch of trades, because our defences suck. None of us can stop anything. I think we all avergage over 30 points per game. I almost traded Randy Moss for some defence, but changed my mind. I don't think it will matter who is on defence. This season is going to be like playing in the CFL, with NFL quality players. Imagine Randy Moss or Isaac Bruce on a CFL size field. That is what we are dealing with right now.

Abboud tells me there are a bunch of errors in this post. I have caught two, but am so tired and mildly delirious that I can't see anything. Seriously. I feel like Benecio Del Toro in Fear and Loathing. I swear Kimmis just morphed into the Purple Pie Eater and pulled a knife on me.

Record So Far:

Abboud: 1-3 (about to go 1-4. He should have been 2-2, but blew a 13 point lead to Kimmis in the last minute and a half)Kimmis: 4-0 (should be 3-1. see Abboud's choking right aboves this)Grabia: 4-0

Kimmis bought more beer. Holy F&%!

9:17 p.m. Saturday

After throwing yet another interception, this time against Kimmis, Abboud threatened to cut me with a coat-hanger. I think he is joking.

12:59 Sunday

Has the time really gone that fast? I remember Abboud threatening me with a hanger like it was a 1/2 hour ago! I now officially hate my team. This inevitably happens with me. I get bored, I realize why my teams sucks, and I just want to start again. This is why we would have been better off just playing random games. Sigh. I traded Randy Moss because I was tired of winning by just tossing the ball in the air and letting him get it. I tried to add some defence. It failed. My line sucks, and my DB's suck too. I played against Kimmis with Atlanta, and I had a blast. They had Simeon Rice and Julius Peppers on their line, so I was in Kimmis' face constantly. That was fun. This? I dunno. Plus, Kimmis and Abboud have the combined energy of a handicapped sloth. Abboud has slept on and off for the last three hours, and Kimmis has gone into his regular non-talking video game mode. Turns into an absolute mute. Might as well be playing a robot, or the computer. What is the point of playing each other if you don't talk trash and share a laugh?

1:19 a.m. Sunday

10 Rules for playing Madden, from ESPN. Kimmis is notorious for breaking the Number #1 rule. He claims to just wanna see the formation. Sure. Abboud is brutal on Rule #10. He always runs out the clock, so much so that everyone else does it to him now. I break #9 all the time. I hate punting. I do it more now though than I used to. In Madden 2003, I never did, because I never needed to. I bet you my 4th down conversion rate was around 80%. I would just roll out with McNabb all the time, and either dump it off if someone chased me, or run like a bitch if they didn't.

3:00 a.m. Sunday

Time for bed. Man am I tired. Kimmis crashed harder than a Macho Man elbow. It turns out that going 5-1 through 7 weeks is not enough for some of my players. They are unhappy and their "morale" level is low. Something to do with "prestige." We have no idea what this means, or how to fix it.

I have just lost to Kimmis the peeker. My defence sucks ass, and frankly I am bored with the game. It has now ceased to be any fun. I had started the last game with a new playbook, but was bored of it by the end. I am ready to go home, have a nap in my own bed, and spend the night reading a good book.

As I write this, Abboud is playing Kimmis. I am assuming Abboud will lose this game. If he does, the stats will look like this at the end of the weekend:

Aboud: 1-6Kimmis: 5-2Grabia: 5-2

Note: Abboud has just recovered a fumble of Kimmis', run it twenty yards, and then fumbled it himself. He went to challenge his fumble, and the game challenged Kimmis'. It ruled that Kimmis' fumble was not, in fact, a fumble, and gave him the ball back. This is a major failing in the game, and always has been. ESPN's game is vastly superior in this regard. It allows the player to choose what they would like to review.

12:48 p.m. Sunday

Abboud has just beat Kimmis on a last second touchdown pass. Literally, last second. Glorious.

1:59 p.m. Sunday

Well, we are still going. I have dropped another game. Another blown lead in the fourth quarter. My hatred for my defence is palpable. If I actually care enough by the end of the season (which I doubt) they will ALL be fired. ALL of them.

This game needs to have a jukebox in it. I am sick of hearing snippets of Green Day's crappy new song (remember when this band was actually relevant?), some Outkast and Juvenile wannabes, and Franz Ferdinand's Strokes rip-off "Take Me Out." Take me out, all right. Take me out of my auditory misery. It would be awesome if the game came with about 300 tracks, and then you could create your own playlist.

As a sociological experiment, this weekend has been fascinating (I should send this to a professor). I imagine that those reading this are having reactions of awe and horror. Probably some repulsion, too. I haven't left this apartment since 9:30 Friday night. That is 41 hours and counting. I came here feeling excited, hopeful, and happy. I will leave exhausted, frazzled, and dispirited. All because of a video-game. We have yelled, screamed, laughed, and almost-cried non-stop since we got here. I feel like I have been in an army initiation process: broken and reborn as well...a broken spirit. I think if we do this again, which I am sure we will, the environment will have to be much different. Perhaps a cabin, with a lake and other opportunities available to us. Breaks will have to be a requisite. Maybe a movie or some other games. Something to keep us from going over the edge, anyways. Or at least me, because I have no idea how the others are feeling.

Kimmis is now giggling. Probably not a good idea, as Abboud and I are wound up very very tight. My string of sanity is about to snap.

3:00 p.m. Sunday

The weekend has come to a close. After blowing a formidable second half lead for the third straight game, I call it quits. I want to go home and sleep. Abboud is going to see Summer Slam at some shady bar, and Kimmis should want to clean his house. I may post on this later, or never again. We will see.